


Four in a Bedsit

by ThePraxianWeasleyGeek



Series: Christmas giftfics 2017 [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Multi, Other, not my characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 09:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13163862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePraxianWeasleyGeek/pseuds/ThePraxianWeasleyGeek
Summary: Being in a relationship with Sekhmet Blossia and Richias Weaver is akin to owning a herd of cats, in the frustration stakes.Unfortunately, they are all too aware of this fact.





	Four in a Bedsit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Artemis_Crimson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Crimson/gifts).



> A slightly belated Christmas gift for my wonderful girlfriend, featuring her wonderful OCs!

When Blossia has been conducting one of her typically diabolical schemes, she does not get a particular look in her eye.

That is to say, there are in fact several Looks which may manifest themselves, in the way that the harsh kitchen spotlights glare back out of her irises - but they are many and varied, and each one means that today's idea took on a particular, obscure branch of semi-legal bioengineering, or that Bonnie ought to stay out of a specific room, if she wishes to avoid unpleasant surprises.

Out of necessity, Bonnie has become adept at translating Blossia’s various Looks.

(Richias is fluent in Blossia for precisely the opposite reason. He will make a beeline for whichever is today's Mystery Door, and laugh at what he sees - and high-five Blossia over the more gruesome discoveries).

(Bonnie loves them both dearly, but sometimes she thinks she could've gotten a similar experience, with considerably less stress involved, by adopting a couple of cats instead).

She thinks she has a right to at least mild exasperation - this is, after all, _her_ flat, and if Blossia and Richias were cats she might well have turfed them out of the flat by now, to fend for themselves in the guts of this vast backwater station. Unfortunately, however, they are _not_ cats: they are her boyfriend and girlfriend and this isn't, strictly speaking, even her house. That is to say, it is not her home; it's an investment she made a few years ago, somewhere she can stop off at and have all to herself, even when real home is too far away from the direction their current campaign is pushing towards.

Blossia and Richias know this, so even if Bonnie did turf them out despite their distinctly non-feline status (Richias’ penchant for sprawling on anyone who braves the couch aside), their few scruples would not prevent them from picking their way through the lock the moment Bonnie’s leave ends. This is not Bonnie’s _home_ , and therefore it is not _sacred_ , and therefore it is fair game.

The true, unquestionable boundaries she erects are never tested, for which she is grateful - but about which she is also wary, as she isn't yet sure to what extent Blossia has the empathy thing nailed down. Putting up too many walls could mean shutting herself off completely.

They're wild things, her Blossia and her Richias, and Bonnie would surely be court-martialed at best if she was found to be consorting with a known terrorist and her accomplice. But she will not give them up. The fleet has her loyalty; the price of that loyalty is that her steadfastness has, ironically, never been all that static. Bonnie _will_ champion multiple causes, no matter if it runs the risk of pulling her apart - because to remain blindly loyal is to be blind to whole swathes of experience.

Noble intentions aside, however, the glint in Blossia's eye today says that the fucking _bathroom_ of all things is off-limits, and Bonnie is edging past ‘exasperated’ into plainly and simply ‘done’.

A peal of Richias’ delighted laughter echoes down the squat hallway, and Bonnie feels an eyelid twitch.

“Dare I ask?”

“Dunno,” Blossia says, grinning. “Dare you?”

“ _Sekhmet_.”

“Don't call me that.” Blossia pouts, and despite her general frustration, Bonnie allows herself a small smile of her own.

Really, though, she _doesn't_ dare ask. Not right now, at least, because Blossia has started to wind her way around Bonnie like one of her invasive plant creations, and it's hard to concentrate on growing concerns when one’s girlfriend is clinging like a limpet and nosing into one’s neck.

Bonnie makes a halfhearted, grumbling protest, but her arm still finds itself circling Blossia's waist; her face still finds itself buried in the shorter woman's dark hair.

“Something's bothering you.”

“Yeah, the thought of whatever monstrosity you've concocted in my bathroom. Some poor garbage disposal worker’s gonna notice, soon, that all the weird biological horrors are being dumped by the same flat.”

“It's more than that, though,” Blossia presses. As she speaks, Richias pads up in that eerily silent way of his, and rests his chin on the point where the two women's heads meet, arms around their shoulders. Bonnie swats faintly at his stomach; she knows all too well where he's just been, and doesn't want him smearing any residue from his reconnaissance on her.

“... My next deployment’s been pushed forward,” she says. “I'm leaving in a couple of days’ time.”

Blossia huffs, and it's somehow chirpy. “Oh, is _that_ all? I thought it was something serious.”

“You don't think that's serious?” asks Richias. Bonnie notes that the arm around her has tightened its hold.

“Well, it's certainly sad,” Blossia concedes. “But not insurmountable. Deployment ends, after all, so you'll be back. And if you're not -” here, the enthusiastic edge of her voice becomes something sharper “- we can always come and fetch you back. No matter what.”

All things considered, Bonnie thinks that the chill up her spine should've carried more weight - but she thinks this abstractly, knowing deep down that the reason her trepidation is muted is because she loves Blossia, weird things in the bathroom and all.

“And luckily,” Richias adds, grinning, “Blossia has just ensured that we won't get lonely while you're away.”

And just like that, the trepidation crescendoes.

“... Blossia,” says Bonnie slowly. “What exactly _did_ you do today?”

In lieu of a reply, Bonnie's hand is abruptly seized by Richias; he drags her down the hallway with another peal of his loose, slightly unhinged laughter.

“You will actually love this, Bon, trust me!”

“Not even as far as I can throw you!” Bonnie retorts, still gasping slightly from the sudden abduction. She means it, too - Richias may be built like a bundle of twigs, but he gangles, and even though Bonnie's no slouch in the muscular department, it's hard to get decent aerodynamics on someone with so much surface area.

He's surprisingly strong, though, and tugs her over to the bathroom door with ease.

“Richias I swear, if I'm about to get an eyeful of some horrific pile of guts or a… a cannibalistic cactus, I'll -”

She hasn't time to think of a suitable threat - Richias kicks the door open and there's an inquisitive sort of squeaking noise from inside the tub, and Bonnie comes to a highly confused, screeching halt.

“What the -”

Richias shushes her, bending to scoop up a small, hairless cat with enormous blue eyes. “Blossia found her today. She was scavenging round the back -”

“The cat, or Blossia?”

Blossia, who has entered to lean against the doorframe, huffs. “ _Ha_.”

The kitten squeaks again and Richias bounces it in his arms, cooing slightly.

“She's got a collar,” he says. “I went and bought one.”

“But she's not officially adopted, yet,” Blossia adds. “You'll have to sort that out tomorrow. I would've gone myself, but…”

The words _arrest on sight_ seem to form silently in the air before her.

“You're presuming a lot,” Bonnie says with a wry smile, “considering I haven't even said I'll keep her yet.”

“Oh, you don't get a say,” says Richias airily, handing the kitten off to Bonnie as he speaks. The little thing squirms as though she wants to return to his long-armed hold, but Bonnie imitates Richias’ clucking noises until she calms.

“Definitely not,” Blossia agrees. “You're off again in a few days. _We're_ the ones who’ll need the company, once you cruelly abandon us.”

“And as you'll see,” Richias says - and this time he's the one with the dangerous glint in his eye. “We have named her accordingly.”

With a now-familiar sense of dread, Bonnie ducks her head to read the tag on the kitten’s collar.

“Richias.”

“Yes?” His grin is face-splitting.

“Please tell me this poor creature's name is not _Hawk_ Hawk.” 


End file.
